Chapter 30

Hermione stared at her parents in shock. "You two own a dental practice," she said rather matter-of-factly.

"Yes," her father answered.

Hermione's gaze darted between them, "Mum's a fae, and Dad's a..."

"As your friend stated, a squib related to a Dark Lord." Her father finished.

"Who?"

"Grindelwald."

"I'm sorry, what?!" Lucius uttered.

"It is a long story," Magdalena stated. "One that we will elaborate on at a later date. Suffice to say that Grindelwald, who is a descendant of a dalliance of my oldest brother during his time as a Viking, sought to create the perfect heir only to sire a squib son." Then she turned back towards Nimue. "It's not like you to take a human to the fae realm."

"Yes, well, they grew on me," Nimue stated while crossing her arms.

"And?" Magdalena pressed.

"And these two are some of the Upper Realm's favorites," she continued. "Severus will be able to secure his husband, no doubt, but they will need a way out of the fae realm, Mags. You are the only friend I have in the mortal realm."

"I guess being an executioner doesn't really make you popular," Magdalena stated while standing up. "Very well. I will help, but I cannot match my brother in power."

"No one is asking you to," Nimue stated.

"Mom, why can't you? Aren't you older than him?" Hermione asked.

"It's my wings, Hermione. I will explain to you in detail once I get back." Magdalena said. "It was just a... very complicated situation back in the fae realm."

With that, Magdalena offered Nimue the use of her fae circle. "It will be easier on Severus's body," she explained while kissing her husband on the cheek as they set to depart.

Minutes later, Magdalena, Nimue, and Severus apparated to Cokeworth. The night air was slightly humid as Magdalena led them into the forest. She had transformed back into her fae form once they had reached the edge of the forest. She looked younger than she had as Maggie Granger and was now sporting a light purple dress with an exposed back for her wings. Severus was no expert on fae in the slightest, but just looking at how stiffly she carried her wings, he supposed it might be a sore point for her.

"I always knew this forest was strange." Severus instead stated that as he felt magic brush against him, the deeper they went.

Magdalena gave a small smile. "Fae circles are built on leylines. One runs through this forest. However, the pollution from the human town has impacted the health of many wind and wood fae in the area over the century."

She paused, then her gaze flicked toward him. "That said, you must have been very likable for the wind fae to take a liking to you, considering the conditions. They rarely favor mortals anymore."

They finally reached a cave that looked slightly overgrown.

"So this is where you landed in the 16th century?" Nimue questioned. "If you told me I would have lent you my circle."

"Your circle is in the Caribbean!" Magdalena shot back.

"Exactly!" Nimue stated. "Some sun, sand, and fun. And the occasional pirate... I could have introduced you to Drake!"

"The Tudor era was perfectly fine for me," Magdalena shot back. "Now come along. Knowing my brother and the company he keeps, he will likely not get far, and the asskicking will be swift."

"I do love me a good asskicking," Nimue stated and then turned towards Severus. "You as well, Sevvie?"

"So long as Harry is alright," Severus stated. "I have tried calling Death, but no one is answering."

"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me. Mortem is probably licking his wounds if he was called earlier. There are rules for the Upper realm. If he's not answering, then it means that he's already broken too many." Nimue stated.

Meanwhile, Oberon, his minions, and Harry landed in a clearing in the fae realm. The air was alive with the hum of raw magic, and Oberon had not bothered with the courtesy of a fae circle; instead, he had dragged his mortals directly through the wards separating the realms.

The result was... enlightening. Ron collapsed to his knees, retching violently. The other pawns staggered as well. All the humans were pale and trembling. Some convulsed as the foreign magic tore through them.

Harry was doubled over in a bush, vomiting until his throat burned. His body shook as sweat dripped down his face. He looked around and saw that he had it relatively easy compared to the others.

"You mortals are pathetic," Oberon spat, "A simple crossing, and you collapse like children."

Harry's breath hitched as he glanced down at his wrist. One of the beads on the armband Nimue had given him was turning black. His stomach twisted upon realization.

The bracelet must have been some type of ward. He knew Nimue well enough to know that she did not give gifts haphazardly. If the bead was cracking, then it was very likely a countdown.

Oberon's voice cut through the clearing, "On your feet. We march."

The pawns stumbled into line, their faces pale and clammy from the crossing. Ron wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, but otherwise stood at attention. Harry was dragged upright by Oberon and kicked to walk down the path.

They trudged forward through the fae realm. The trees loomed impossibly tall, and Harry shivered as he thought he heard voices coming from them.

"Why do you even want this crown of Nimue's?" Harry finally asked.

Oberon's head snapped toward him, "It is not Nimue's crown, you ignorant child. It belonged to her queen, Thalassaine. A primordial fae queen. The power that crown possesses could reshape destinies. It is no mere trinket."

Harry coughed as he forced himself to prod further. "But why? You already seem... pretty powerful. What's the point of more?"

Oberon's expression darkened as his voice rose with fury. "You don't know shit. You don't know that my own wife looked down on me. Titania, a primordial queen herself, snubbed me when I asked if she would share her power. She laughed. She called me weak." His voice continued to thunder through the clearing, "I am the least powerful of the royals. Second only to my defective sister. Do you know what it is to be mocked by your own blood? To be treated as less than, when you were born to rule?"

"Well," Harry croaked, "if you're the least powerful, maybe that's the universe's way of saying you shouldn't be in charge. You know, natural selection and all that. Darwin would be proud."

"Honestly, if your sister's defective, what does that make you? The discount version? The knock‑off brand of royalty? Oberon, King of Whining and Poor Life Choices."

Everyone froze as Oberon's roar split the clearing. He backhanded Harry so hard the wizard's head snapped to the side.

"You dare mock me?" Oberon bellowed while he struck Harry again and again.